Elemental
by Bloody Fox
Summary: Oneshots dedicated to an elemental Harry.
1. Chapter 1

_**Wind**_

The wind was wild and free, changeable and uncontainable. It did as it will and nothing could stop it. Gentle one moment with soothing breeze, violent the next, tearing trees from the ground. It carried the rain but also the lightning. A gossip of the world, it carried scent and sounds, and playful it pulled and tugged on hair and clothes. But it was like all forms of nature, easily moving from gentle to violent in the span of a second. The element of wind suited Harry, or at least that was what he'd been told.

He sat on the cold stone floor, legs bent underneath him and ignoring the discomfort he felt. A deathly pale hand cut through his hair, pulling harshly one moment before becoming soothing the next with gentle pets. He was the ill-favored pet here, hurt for the slightest perceived wrongs, but they couldn't touch _him_. A shine of sky-blue and white protected his mind from the trauma for the wind loved him like he loved it. Harry looked towards the window where the leaves rustled in the trees. It was the only room in the whole compound with a window. Installed after his capture it was meant as a torment. To look upon what he could not have.

Warmth curled over his body, wrapping him in a kind embrace. He'd almost relaxed under the wind's hold when Voldemort lashed out. The only thing that kept his head from hitting against the stone floor was the chain around his throat. He just calmly set himself back up, used to the random acts of violence. Suddenly, the wind, warm and caressing, changed. It chilled, raking invisible claws up his body, not enough to cut, but enough to emphasize the shape points – the blades unseen. He shivered, but understood.

The wind didn't like him so caged either. Confinement was not meant for them. He was not a bird to be held behind bars of iron. He was not something to be tied down. He was a force of nature, and he wanted _out_. There was a delicate tinkling sound, the wind laughing, coaxing, and telling him to hurry. Harry smiled and looked up into scarlet eyes. The wind lashed out like a whip, or perhaps sword would be more accurate. There was only a slight widening of Voldemort's eyes before his head fell from his shoulders and the Death Eater's screamed. Cuts, weeping red mouths, opened along their skin – hundreds of them before they finally quit moving and making noise.

His laughter sounded just like the wind's, a soft chime in the deathly quiet base. It was over. He was _free. _Finally. Nothing held him here, to them or anywhere else. He could just drift, float away on the currents and never been seen again. It sounded so utterly peaceful, and maybe, when he became bored, he would stir up a storm or a tornado. He left the compound, breathing in the fresh air deeply before letting the wind swirl around him, lifting him from the ground entirely as if he had wings.

The wind ruffled his hair and tossed him high. It was just as pleased as he was, glad to have him back, joyous for someone that just _knew. _He twisted and dove and rose sharply like he was on a broom again. Being in the air… it was like coming home. Pure welcome, a love that he'd never gotten from the people he'd known. There wasn't anything better than this. He leaned back, lounging, easily deciding that he would never return.

The sky was his world now, and nothing would ever draw him back down to the earth.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Earth**_

Peaceful. Serene. Perfect balance. He was sturdy, a rock to hold onto against the ever shifting world they took part of, but even he could be eroded away, as was the nature of the earth. They grasped desperately until there was nothing to hold onto, but still – he stood firm and resolute, as was his way. Brave in the face of danger. Gryffindor. Nothing less would have been acceptable. Less and he would be dead or so far gone that he might as well have been. Even still, it was the youngest pieces of earth that were easiest to was away, the newest lives easiest to destroy. He smiled though and fought for them so they wouldn't be taken apart as he was. He wanted to save them even if it cost him himself.

A tree branch lowered to him, a bright flower – blue as the sky – blooming on the thin branch. He plucked it gently, cradling it within his hands with the care one would take with fragile china. The plants gave what gifts they could, and he treasured each one. They were far more precious than many things he knew of. He caressed the delicate petals with his thumb, the flower reminding him too much of human lives and how easily they could be broken. Grass tangled around his legs, as if sensing his solemn thoughts and attempting to give comfort. He reveled in it, falling fully into an embrace that wouldn't last much longer.

Already he could sense their approach. Their steps, violent and dark just like the men and women they were, crushing the things in their path. The trees shivered, seeming to wither and turn gray just from their mere coming. Harry took to his feet, still staid and impassive. This ended tonight and he could almost hear the weeping that came from the very ground upon which he stood. His magic caressed it, soothed it back into quiet with the promise that all would be well. He stared out into the Forbidden Forest, (_the Dark Forest, the Dead Forest_) waiting to see the masked faces of his enemies.

Finally they showed, creeping, like evil had a tendency to do, from behind trees and carrying the stench of sins done. No more, he whispered to quietly for them to hear. No more would they haunt this plain of existence. No more would they torment the living. Then _He_ appeared, drifting like smoke across the ground to stand at the head of his followers. He spoke, telling of death and torture for the blood traitors and mudbloods, speaking of the power of true wizards and how that he (Harry) would never live to see the day they gained their rightful places.

Harry only smiled sadly, touching that place of peace and balance before raising his hands. His element rose to his call and did something that was never meant to be part of its nature. It attacked. Vines lashed out, holding them to their places. They screamed, cursed, and fought, and it did nothing to release them. Crimson eyes, so much like blood spilt, turned to glare at him. Harry whispered an apology to the ground even as he willed it to part like water, rippling around struggling forms and pulling them beneath the dirt. It was a cruel thing, but he could do no different. He could only work with the tools he was given. Still, a near frown graced his face. The earth was crying again, and not just for the deed done this night.

A wild cheer rose up behind him, students and teachers celebrating the death of a madman and his minions. A tear rolled slowly down Harry's cheek and he turned away. Death, no matter how deserved, was something to mourn, especially a death that didn't result in a renewal, like winter to spring. Dumbledore approached him, congratulations on his lips. Harry pulled away and shook his head, looking into the Headmaster's blue eyes. He didn't understand what this truly meant to him, what it meant to be earth elemental.

"Don't look for me." He spoke softly and disappeared among the trees, letting their willing branches, leaves, and vines obscure his departure.

He would never return to them or their kind again.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Water**_

One didn't appreciate the element of water until the one controlling it was staring them in the face. People didn't realize how utterly _cold_ water truly was. When they thought of danger in nature, fire sprang to mind – wild and destructive and uncaring – or the wind – violent swirls and torrents, tossing objects as if they were little more than leaves. Truly though, it was water that should have been feared. Deceptive waters, like the calm of a lake surface whose truth was vicious, unseen currents that pulled and drowned and stole the life from those fool enough to stand in the way.

Water was cold, and no one knew that better then Harry who was the very embodiment of the element. He was gentle waves, high and low tides, and he was whirlpools and suffocating, dark depth. He drew them in and pulled them under letting none escape his grasp with no more thought than one would take then to squish a bug. _He_ was cold, inside and out, and no matter what they did, it would never change because he and his element were one. He was Water.

His feet tripped across the surface of the water, hands and body moving in an intricate dance. He barely made ripples in the surface. Robes a million shades of blue, swirled and leapt around him, darting with his moves. This was the only place he could be happy. On the lake, nothing else mattered. Fish moved beneath his feet, joining him. He could sense the giant body of the squid drawing near to watch. Then he felt the eyes of _them_, and he hissed, stilling instantly. The creatures of the water flashed away, disappearing to the murky deep. He turned and stared frigidly at the shore.

They shouldn't have come.

The water stilled entirely, looking like perfectly smooth glass, and he moved toward them, his smooth glide not disturbing the reflective surface in the slightest. He'd warned them, and now perhaps he would show them. He stopped twenty feet from the shore, green eyes clashing with blue ones. He was told to never come out here, that it wasn't safe, that his element was misleading. Harry could agree on both counts, but not in reference to himself. Water was misleading, but never to him. As for the danger?

He raised his hands and swept them outward, instantly feeling the current that starting spinning beneath his feet. He would show them danger, and it would be the last thing they knew. They were speaking to him now, telling him that indulging in his nature so much and forgetting his human friends and obligations wasn't good for him. He wanted to laugh at them, tell them he wasn't human any longer so human things mattered not, but he wouldn't indulge them.

He just move his hands again, as if bringing something close to his chest, and the lake suddenly rose to fast for them to comprehend. It wrapped around their feet, their waists, their chests; the current he'd started earlier drawing them in as the water receded back to where it was supposed to lay. He leaned over just a bit, watching as horrified eyes stared up as his completely impassive form. They understood now, but far too late. It was to bad, the wizarding world had needed Dumbledore and the others to mount resistance against Voldemort. He turned away, back to the center of the lake, when those eyes dulled and their final breaths finally escape their lungs and began again.

Water was cold, he thought, and so few understood that. The ones that did were no more than ripples on the surface, fading away quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Fire**_

Fire was hot. Though that was clearly stating the obvious. It burned and consumed all it touched; there wasn't a single thing that couldn't become food for a flame if that flame was hot enough. It was an element of destruction, turning forests into little more than blackened stumps and grand buildings to broken, crumbling bits of mortar. It ravaged and killed and devastated all it touched. Fire was a sign of evil, and when Harry became a flame, he was evil by default.

The people ignored the fact that fire was purifying. It cleared old forests to make way for the new, blackened the land so that it could return even greener. Fire wasn't evil, could never be, but it was at hand and easily unleashed on unsuspecting victims. No, fire was apathy. Fire didn't care who or what came into its path, it burned them and moved on. No one would be spared, and it was indifferent to the plight of those around it. He, Harry, was affected similarly. He was uninterested and unaffected by the wizards and their problems. Voldemort, Death Eaters, Dumbledore… none of it concerned him any longer, and he was the happiest he'd ever been because of it.

Now, if they would all take that hint and let him be. They attacked from all sides, the Dark with threats of death, the Light claiming it was his duty, and the people, alternately spitting on him or pleading with him. They shouldn't have tried to hold him so tightly. They should have let him go, disappear into the world. They shouldn't have tried to _force_ him to do anything. Fire could be held for a time, but eventually, it was going to get out, and when it did, it would engulf what surrounded it. Fire wasn't vengeful… but Harry _was._

He allowed himself to be shoved forward by Moody who, with a spell, released the cuffs that bound his wrists together. He moved slowly towards the center of the field, towards Voldemort who was also walking to the same place. He stared up into blazing red eyes, not even glancing at the Yew wand pointed at his face, and when he spoke, it was loud enough for all of them to hear.

"You all wanted me to destroy, and so I grant your request."

Fire roll out across the ground as if it were soaked with gasoline or any number of combustibles. It roared as it poured over the opposing forces, so loud that it drown out their screams of pain, and in the middle of it all, Harry stood, stone faced and silent, looking out to the swirls of red and white. His eyes drifted around the now empty area when the flames died down, finding nothing remaining save for the patch of grass he stood on and greenery far off in the distance. He strode away with a confident glide, not glancing back a single time.

The world was better off, he thought to himself. Fire cleared way to make room for the new, and he was just doing as nature had intended. Humans or plants or animals, all the same really. Too much of any was detrimental to the environment, especially the first of the three. He held no love for humans, as a race, any longer and felt less than nothing over the loss of lives.

Perhaps, he mused to himself, apathy was more dangerous than evil was.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Ice**_

It wasn't just cold. Ice was _never_ just cold. It went beyond freezing and to the point that it burned. It sliced and cut away at the nearest things until there was so little left they were barely recognizable, or it could envelop them entirely - holding them at that point forever - as a mockery and memory to the life around. But even more than that, ice was a jealous and selfish thing. It wanted; it took. There wasn't a force that could stop it were it determined enough.

And Harry knew about determination. He'd heard people speak of him as if he were a force of nature - that he swept by and changed everyone he came into contact with, whether for better or for worse. It came as no surprise to him that an actual force of nature came to his call and grew within him. And he found that he and ice... well, they weren't so different. He wanted things - friends, family, love - and ice granted his wishes. It made him able to take them and keep them. Forever. He would never have to let them go again, and no one was going to stop him.

Hogsmead was a ghost town and had been for a number of years. The abandoned homes and shops, however, were immaculate. The path that lead up to Hogwarts was trimmed and kept, still looking worn though it hadn't seen the steps of man or animal in a long, long time. The Forbidden Forest, once bursting with life, was a field of sharp crystalline spires and the only sound within was the wind whipping through. Hogwarts overlooked it all, standing far higher than it had before. The thick outer stone walls were covered in heavy sheets of ice, transforming the castle into a glistening white palace.

Harry walked in to the Great Hall, and was surrounded by all his friends and people he considered family. Ron and Hermione were at the Gryffindor table waiting for him. The rest of the Weasleys were in a bunch just off to the side, giving him welcoming smiles. Dumbledore twinkled from his place at the head of the staff table, and McGonnagall looked on with a stern face. Remus and Padfoot had a place next to Hermione, with Remus giving a gentle look and Padfoot giving a doggy grin with a lolling tongue. Some others, ones that were friends of his friends, dotted the room, and Harry smiled and gave a nod to each of them.

They never spoke.

They never fought.

They never would leave him.

They were his until the world ended and the ice melted.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Light**_

Light was hope and peace. It was confidence and courage and _right_. It chased away the darkness. It quelled fears and forced monsters (imagined and real) to retreat into hiding. It was family. It was happiness. It was love. It was a grand and glorious thing. It was the righteous path to take. The high road of true morals and honor. The Light….

The Light was a lie.

People acquainted it with all that was good and _just _in the world. They wrote fables about it. Knights riding in on _white_ horses. Beings using _white_ magic. It was all light propaganda. Misleading. Dangerous. The light wasn't protective. It seared and it blinded. It hid from the world its reality – stuffed them into the shadows that it created when it cast about its power. It drew them in like moths to a flame, and when they came to close… It devoured them.

And no one ever knew…

But Harry did. He knew better than anyone around him could. He'd been a moth. He'd been devoured. And now… well, now he was the flame. He was the shining beacon, and they flocked to him mindlessly. He controlled them with glistening (fake) smiles and kind (mocking) words. And they listened, oh how they listened. He could see the thrill in this power. He could understand how Dumbledore used it even though he had only a fraction to command. The world shuffled about to his every whim with just the right words.

Oh, the Light.

Oh, the Shadows.

Oh, the Lies.

"Dance, my puppets, dance."


	7. Chapter 7

**Dark**

Darkness was shadows and quiet contemplation. It was being alone but not isolated, comforting in that there was something to share a presence. It lulled, soothing hurts that seared when the light touched them. The Dark was secrets and whispers, soft voices and gentle hands. It was there even when it couldn't be seen. It was solace with the moon and stars. Peace, even in trying times. Serenity, despite great upheaval. And yet…

And yet they only saw the things hiding within the dark and the shadow. They only saw the monsters with red eyes that peered back from the depths of the abyss. They only thought of the bad that happened in the times of night, when the Death Eaters and dark creatures roamed and destroyed. They looked at the moon that hung in a dark sky and only wolves came to mind. They couldn't comprehend the deep thrumming sense of tranquility that flowed with the coming of dusk or from within a shadowed corner. The very idea that Dark wasn't Evil didn't cross their minds, despite who he was.

Or, perhaps, it was because of who he was. Tales of his fifth year madness didn't help. Neither did his gift of the snake-tongue, and when the dark answered his call… Well, it was just another reason, wasn't it? They'd been wrong about him every time before, but this time, maybe this time, they were right. And if they were right, the chance couldn't be taken. They could be forgiven for their mistakes, after all. Or so they thought, but no matter how good-natured Harry (and by extension, the Dark) was, forgiveness was slipping beyond him. Too many hurts and betrayals, so many that the darkness couldn't heal all of them. So he turned away, and with him, the dark that had been hiding the many fighters from the eyes of the Death Eaters.

He watched from a distance as they moved across the land, a terrible wave of black cloaks and smiling bone masks. He was silent as they murdered by the hundreds, then the thousands. And when he was horrified by thoughts that they deserved no less, he was drawn into the shades of the world and assuaged of those things that would bring him disquiet.

And eventually…

Eventually the screams quieted. The fires died. There was silence.

Harry looked back upon the world to find men and man gone with only their cities left to mark their passing.

He didn't mourn them.


End file.
